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November 11th
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Blurb:
As a
computer hacker, she demands justice.
As a
woman, she craves two powerful and commanding men.
Shana’s been hacking one of Manhattan’s
most corrupt executives, making him pay for what he’s done to his victims.
Using her skills, she convinces Mike and Cody to hire her at their
intelligence-gathering firm, where intimate details help their clients.
Never has Mike met a woman as delicious as
Shana. Smart as hell, curvy and assured, she’d be a delightful challenge in
bed. Cody’s carnal hunger is equally intense. He and Mike want to know
everything about her.
She won’t divulge the secrets of her past.
All she can offer is unquenchable desire and her heart.
During weeks of shameless lust and
pleasure, Mike and Cody peel away the layers of Shana’s life. The stunning
truth changes everything. They’ll do all that they can to keep her safe…and in
their arms.
Excerpt:
Neither Mike Russo nor Cody Latham had
expected her to show up in their conference room.
Of course, they wouldn’t have, given the
various laws she’d broken to be here.
Shana Gallagher’s pulse ticked up
another notch at that and their good looks. Virile and commanding. They were
deliciously hot and smart, having once worked in military intelligence.
Mike, the proverbially tall, dark and
handsome hunk, had found his way into government via his MIT training. He’d
left DC five years ago to start his own firm. Now thirty-three, he regarded
Shana with momentary surprise then male interest as his attention raked over
her.
Despite her best intentions, Shana’s
skin tingled.
To his side was Cody. Equally impressive
at thirty-four, he forgot to take a sip of his coffee. The Starbucks cup was
inches from his mouth as he also took her in. Quietly and restrained.
Shana’s belly quivered at the heat in
his gaze, so at odds with his military background. It showed in the set of his
broad shoulders and modified buzz cut, his hair short on the sides with volume
on top. Those dark blond locks complemented his golden skin and hazel eyes.
Mike’s were greenish-gray, an arresting
color given his olive complexion and chestnut hair, a bit longish and casually
styled. Several strands dangled over his forehead, begging a woman to ease them
back.
Currents of warmth rippled through
Shana, leaving her cruelly weak. She hadn’t expected to react like this. During
her research on them, she’d seen hundreds of their photos, including those not
meant for the public. Their days spent with women, outdoors at the beach or
sailing, both men’s hard bodies stripped to their swim trunks and bared to the
sun. Mike’s bold tattoo on his left bicep. The cruel scar on Cody’s right pec
that enhanced his masculinity.
None of those pictures had done them
justice.
“Mr. Russo, Mr. Lathan,” the office
manager murmured, her somber hush appropriate for this high-priced firm in New
York’s Financial District. Dressed in a severe gray suit, the matronly woman
smelled funereal, of incense and carnations. She inclined her perfectly coiffed
head to Shana. “Ms. Gallagher, your four o’clock.”
Before
Mike or Cody could say “huh” or “who?” Shana stepped deeper into the yawning
room. It was possibly two thousand square feet and decorated in a combination
of rose, beige and brown, its bank of windows offering a spectacular view of
the harbor. An NYPD boat and cruises packed with tourists cut through the
water, leaving foamy trails. Sunlight winked off those swells and the glass
buildings, giving the early September day a dreamy, golden haze.
The
door clicked shut behind Shana, leaving her alone with the men.
Mike
pushed to his feet, his six-three frame superbly clothed in an Italian suit
that probably cost five grand. Its subtle navy tones and his pale blue shirt
heightened the effect of his sapphire tie. Cody’s was gray-and-white striped,
his shirt charcoal, his suit a pewter color. Surprisingly fashionable given his
conservative background.
He
stood. His height matched Mike’s. Both men were lean yet muscular.
Power
and male privilege radiated from them. Everything Shana had always mistrusted
and despised. She couldn’t quite manage those feelings now. She knew far too
much about them. They were surprisingly good men, downright decent, which added
to their seductive allure and had brought her here.
Shana
crossed the room, forcing herself to walk casually as though she belonged. The
slit in her pencil skirt allowed the black fabric to fall away from her leg,
exposing a bit of her thigh. Mike and Cody’s attention dropped to her sheer
stockings and spike heels.
Hard
carnal interest flared on their faces.
A
curious mixture of pleasure and caution rushed through Shana, draining her
strength. She put her leather tote on the granite table, the smooth stone a
soft rose color speckled with gray, black and brown.
The
moment she slipped her hand under the tote’s flap, Mike said, “Hold it right
there.”
He’d
spoken quietly. However, his deep baritone filled the impressive space,
demanding obedience.
Shana
calmed herself as well as she could and lifted her face to his. At this hour,
stubble shadowed his upper lip, chin and cheeks. His lashes were unspeakably
long. His attention moved from the tote to her silk blouse, the color of black
cherries. No one had to tell Shana that her nipples were hard and jutting
against the fabric. Suddenly, Mike couldn’t seem to look anywhere else.
A
wave of heat rushed to her neck, her arousal unruly.
He
cleared his throat. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed with his swallow. “Who
are you?”
Time
for the truth. Sort of.
